


Interrogation

by Kass



Series: The Sentinel fanworks [36]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Interrogation, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-30
Updated: 2008-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another morning at the PD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for Alanna, who's having a crappy week. Many thanks to Sihaya for helping me translate my brain onto the screen.

He'd waited weeks for the right morning. Things had to fall into place: they had to be out of the field for a day, Sandburg had to be dressed a certain way, the room he wanted had to be clear for an hour or so. Office work. Khakis. The room with no two-way mirror.

And today was going to be the day.

Jim emailed Don, who was happy to do him the favor of calling the DA's office on false pretenses. He quietly reserved the room. He strolled into the interrogation room with his cup of coffee. Left it there, as if to claim the territory. And then he sat at his desk, listening in on Rhonda's phone conversations, waiting for the call he knew was coming in. When it did, he put down the case file he'd been pretending to scan, stood at the edge of Sandburg's desk, and waited until Sandburg noticed he was looking.

Didn't take long; a few seconds later, Sandburg glanced up over his legal pad, made some apologetic noises into the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear, and hung up.

"Yeah?"

Jim just stared. Keeping his face as expressionless as he could.

Sandburg smiled a little; then made an aborted motion, obviously resisting the urge to fidget. "What?"

"Can we talk?" Jim angled his head towards the interrogation room; Sandburg nodded and stood.

Perfect timing: Rhonda was walking over with a message slip just as Jim ushered Sandburg into the interrogation room.

The minute the steel door clanged behind them Jim had his partner's arms pinned behind his back and was closing a pair of cuffs around both wrists.

"What the—"

Jim yanked a heavy metal chair into the middle of the floor and pushed his partner down into it. Sandburg looked pissed: the angle of his arms was probably uncomfortable. Plus Jim had just manhandled him into cuffs. The thought made Jim want to laugh, although he resisted the temptation.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sandburg's voice was quiet and slow.

Now Jim let himself smile. This was going to be good. This was going to be so good. "You dressed up today."

"I have a hearing with the DA at 12:30, Jim." _You know that,_ his tone implied.

"That why you decided to go commando?"

Sandburg sucked in a breath between his teeth. Jim could see the understanding washing over him. "Jeez, Jim--what the fuck does that—"

"Out of the house without underwear on, and you expected me not to notice?"

Sandburg smiled at him. Ingratiating. "C'mon, man. We didn't do laundry last night--we got...distracted, remember?" Jim _did_ remember; it had been a particularly good distraction. Jim could feel a slight soreness even now, if he focused that way. Which he wasn't going to. Because he had other things on his mind.

Sandburg was still talking. Jim interrupted him. "And you didn't borrow a pair of mine because...?"

"--I figured you'd be annoyed."

"You figured wrong," Jim said, mildly. He walked over and kicked at Sandburg's ankles, spreading his legs wide. Sandburg's eyes widened to match.

Jim could almost see the wheels turning in his partner's mind. Sandburg had admitted the interrogation room fantasy months ago, in a near-whisper, lying twined together in their bed in the dark. They'd never mentioned it again; Jim was pretty sure Sandburg figured he'd forgotten it. And now here it was.

Something shifted behind Sandburg's eyes. A flicker of trust, replaced by supplication. Some dark part of Jim thrilled at being looked at that way.

Jim crouched, easy, and focused his eyes on his partner's crotch.

"Oh. Oh, no, no way," Sandburg said, but his dick was starting to rise. Growing hard just from being watched, from the intent in Jim's eyes.

"C'mon, man." Wheedling. Like that was going to get him anywhere.

Jim was expecting some wheedling. Some outright begging, even, before the encounter was over. Sandburg had confessed this part of it, too: wanting to be helpless, to ask Jim to stop, to know that no matter what he said, Jim wouldn't. His neck and temples flushed with sweat. "Jim, not here."

Following his own script, but his body didn't mean it: it was responding in all the right ways. Especially after Jim reached out his hand and stroked it once over the hot hardness at Sandburg's crotch.

Sandburg bit back a moan and let his eyes flutter closed. Fucking beautiful.

Jim rubbed harder, back and forth. His fingers crept lower, cupping Sandburg's balls, rubbing the cloth against them.

Sandburg's eyes opened: now he looked panicked. His nipples were standing at attention through the thin cotton of his shirt.

"Jim." Voice hoarse, "C'mon, I have to *work* in these, I don't have time to go home and change-"

"You should've thought of that before you left the house like that." It was the first thing Jim had said since he started touching his partner, and his voice was scratchy. The sound of it seemed to make Sandburg even stiffer under his hands.

"Please, take me out of my pants, don't make me—"

Jim rubbed harder, spiraling his thumb over the head of Sandburg's dick, and Sandburg's voice trailed off into a gasp.

"Please." The tone was desperate: he was really begging now. Which made Jim diamond-hard. As if he hadn't been, before. Sandburg's eyes showed indecision; he couldn't seem to decide whether to beg Jim to keep going or to stop. "Please, Jim, oh, God, that feels so--no, wait, you can't--don't--oh, man, don't—"

_No matter what I say, you don't stop._ The remembered words echoed in Jim's head as if Blair were still murmuring them, pressed against his bare chest, almost too quiet to hear. He'd felt Blair blushing, the heat of Blair's face against his skin. _You just...keep going. Because you can tell I want it._

Jim pulled his hand back a fraction of an inch, and Sandburg took a breath, and then Jim grabbed hard. Merciless. Knowing exactly how hard to press, where to let his fingertips skate. Sandburg made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and redness blossomed in his cheeks even as the wet spurt of his come sprayed the fly of his khakis. Jim inhaled hard, wanting the scent of semen to sting all the way into his lungs.

Sandburg let his head tip back, breathing hard, and Jim stood for a moment, washed by a mix of deep satisfaction and thrill. Sandburg looked...used. Gloriously used.

And then he walked over to the table and took a sip of his coffee, casual, as if he hadn't just jerked his partner off in the middle of the interrogation room in the middle of a work day. Coffee was bitter and just cool enough that it felt stale on his tongue.

He walked back over to his partner and stood over him, liking the way he towered over Sandburg in the metal chair, and waited for him to open his eyes. Which, after a minute, he did.

"Jesus." Sandburg's voice was hoarse but appreciative.

"You're a mess," Jim said, as if he hadn't been the one to put the mess there. Still playing the game.

Sandburg picked up the cue immediately and stayed in character. "How the fuck am I supposed to walk back out there?"

Jim raised an eyebrow in a parody of a shrug. "Make it look like an accident," he said, holding his coffee cup over his partner's lap.

Suddenly the panic was back in Sandburg's eyes. "No way. No, Jim," and there was the anticipation of humiliation in his tone, "don't—"

And Jim tipped the cup and poured the cold coffee, in a slow dark stream, right onto Sandburg's crotch. Hoping that the liquid would splash through the fabric directly onto Sandburg's tender cock; figuring, from his partner's moan, that his aim had been true.

And then Jim unzipped his own khakis and reached into his boxers and pulled himself out, pumping himself once because he just couldn't help it, not with Sandburg in front of him like that.

Sandburg licked his lips.

And then Jim was standing with his legs wide on either side of his partner, his cock in Sandburg's mouth, and he stopped thinking for a while.

* * *

He unfastened the cuffs as soon as he recovered from his own orgasm, and rubbed Sandburg's chafed wrists until they didn't feel hot anymore, and kissed Sandburg as deeply as he could without bringing their bodies close enough together to get coffee anywhere near his own clothes.

And then he let them out of the interrogation room, and Sandburg fairly skittered to his desk to sit down before anyone saw him. Jim managed to keep his face expressionless as he walked slowly back to his chair.

And then Jim watched out of the corner of his eye as Sandburg took in the message slip from Rhonda. The call had come in at 11:03; the DA had been called away on urgent business and Sandburg's meeting had been rescheduled for next week.

Sandburg shook his head, incrementally, just enough for Jim to notice the motion. "Payback is hell," he murmured, very quietly.

Jim grinned, big, as Sandburg crumpled the message slip and threw it at him, and started to laugh.


End file.
